


If the World Says It's Time To Go

by orphan_account



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: F/M, I don't know what to tag this as, M/M, a bunch of kids running around in the woods looking for spoopy stuff, allura is a savage, and shiro's, gremlin pidge, keith is such a weirdo asdgjkl, keith's theme song is basically the xfiles theme in this, kind of???, pidge is referred to as they, so feel free to project ur own headcanons on there, so is pidge's tbh, tags will be updated as I go, there might be violence i haven't decided yet, there's conspiracy theories and cryptids, this is my first fic for voltron so it ought to be interesting, um
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-10
Updated: 2016-09-18
Packaged: 2018-08-14 07:37:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8004022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Hunk and Lance take a road trip after graduation, they think it's just going to be a fun vacation. And then they find a body on the side of the road. And then they hear about Bigfoot sightings in the area. And then they're heading to a town that no one's ever heard of. And that's just the start.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Um, hi
> 
> I used to write for Haikyuu a lot, but I haven't really been into it very much lately, so I figured I'd write something for Voltron! 
> 
> I saw a headcanon that Keith and Pidge were conspiracy nuts and I kind of took that and ran with it, so now you have this mess.
> 
> Enjoy!

The car smelled like gasoline and grease. Lance wrinkled his nose and flicked impatiently at the little green cardboard tree hanging from the rearview mirror, hoping that somehow it’d magically dispel the stench of half-eaten McDonald’s fries and petroleum, but to no avail. The minty smell advertised on the packaging had long been overpowered by the stench of Lance’s ’98 Neon. Having owned the car through high school, it held a particular odor, a mix of Axe, grease, and teenage boy, a smell that couldn’t be defeated, much to his mother’s despair. Unfortunately, in the dead of summer, the stink was only amplified, causing the car to grow absolutely rank. In the late July heat, it was absolutely unbearable. Or at least, it was to Lance. Hunk didn’t seem to mind, munching on a particularly crunchy fry with a rapturous expression on his features. 

“I want you to serve McDonald’s fries at my funeral. None of that Burger King shit,” Hunk requested, reaching into the bag for another fry. Lance raised an eyebrow, but decided not to question it, instead turning up the AC, praying for relief from the sweltering heat of the car. 

“Do you think we could convince McDonald’s to cater? I bet the rates would be killer.” He wondered, slowing down to match the speed limit. Hunk chewed on his lip, seriously considering the question. 

“I don’t know. I could ask Maria,” he offered. Lance furrowed his brow. 

“Which one is Maria again?” 

“Dad’s third girlfriend’s sister.” 

“Oh yeah, that’s right. She’s the one who gave us a bag full of fries.” Lance finally remembered. He had a larger family than Hunk, but Hunk’s was also infinitely more confusing, largely due to the fact that who was considered family seemed to change monthly, depending on who his dad was dating. 

“Yeah, that’s the one. She could probably get McDonald’s to cater at my funeral.” 

“Do people even cater for funerals?” Lance wondered, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel. 

“I think so? If it’s not a common thing I’m going to make it a tradition. Garret family has catered funerals. All you can eat buffet, snack on some hors d’oeuvres while you look at the body,” Hunk declared. Lance snorted with equal parts derision and amusement. 

“Dude. That’s gross.” 

“I mean, what’s a good party without food?” 

“A funeral isn’t a party, Hunk.” 

“Mine will be. I’ll get a DJ and everything.” 

“ _Jesus_ , Hunk.” 

Hunk broke off into a laugh at that, and pulled out his phone. 

“I think the exit we want is coming up soon,” he remarked, pulling up a map. Lance scanned the green signs dotting the road, but to no avail. 

“Are you sure? I don’t see anything.” Lance peered out, squinting just a bit as he tried to read the signs racing by. 

“Dude, you really need glasses. Or contacts. A monocle. Something,” Hunk remarked. Lance rolled his eyes. 

“I can see perfectly fine, thank you. They used to call me Hawkeye in high school, because my vision was so good.” 

“I thought that was because on the field trip you tried out the archery activity and shot Mr. Plytox in the ass?” 

“I thought it was Plyrox? Besides, I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Lance denied. Hunk rolled his eyes with a laugh. 

“Sure, whatever you say. It’s the next exit.” Hunk pointed to indicate the direction, and Lance moved to switch lanes. Beyoncé filtered through the speakers, providing what Lance thought was a very fitting soundtrack to what was supposed to be the greatest road trip of his life. 

Hunk and Lance had been friends from the very beginning, when Lance tried to steal the cookie from Hunk’s lunch in the second grade and Hunk punched him in the face. There’d been a bloody nose, crying, stammered apologies, more crying, and before anyone could blink the two were inseparable. They’d been through everything together, from Lance’s twenty-fifth consecutive rejection, to Hunk’s extremely regrettable scene phase in the eighth grade, to Lance’s foray into cheerleading, which actually went surprisingly well. They’d graduated Garrison High School together, and within two weeks, had planned a road trip across the Northwestern United States. Utah, Montana, Oregon, Washington, maybe part of Nevada, and probably not Idaho. Definitely not Wyoming. At that point, they were traversing the Idaho-Oregon border, having just driven through Idaho yesterday. 

Lance took the next exit, humming along to Countdown as they started into Oregon. Hunk finally polished off the fries, and chucked the grease-stained McDonald’s bag into the back seat. The sky overhead was a luscious blue, with dollops of fluffy white clouds floating along the horizon, and Lance couldn’t help but smile a little bit. The whole scene was idyllic, the kind of thing you’d see in a music video, with happy photogenic people and wide smiles. As they coasted along, Lance kind of felt like a king. Even though his car smelled like shit. 

Of course, the body on the side of the road brought that to a screeching halt. 

“Holy shit! Lance, there’s somebody out there!” Hunk screamed, prompting Lance to slam on the brakes. He fought to keep control, ignoring the honking behind him, and maneuvered over to the side of the road. Within seconds, Hunk had ripped off his seat belt and leapt out of the car. Lance followed after him, grabbing his phone, just in case. They hurried towards the body, which almost looked bleached in the sunlight. Hunk reached it first, and dropped to a crouch beside it. Lance was about to reach him, when Hunk looked up at him with panic in his eyes. 

“He’s still breathing!” he shouted, “Go get some water or something!” Lance scrambled back towards the car, confused and a little scared. He snatched a plastic bottle out of the backseat and hurried back to Hunk, who had grabbed the body and was shaking them in an attempt to wake them up. When Lance came back, he finally took a good look at the body. 

It was a young man, with dark hair that was styled in a god-awful haircut, a red pleather jacket, and what looked like jeggings? He was pale, to the point that Lance could easily see his veins running through his wrists. 

“Jesus,” he breathed out, passing Hunk the water bottle. “Where did he come from?” 

“What the hell makes you think I know?” Hunk demanded, splashing water on the stranger’s face. 

“Well, what do you think we should do? Can you wake him up?” Lance tried, moving closer. The water hadn’t seemed to have much effect, but the stranger also didn’t seem to be in any serious danger. Then again, Lance didn’t exactly have much experience with this sort of thing. 

“Shit. We can’t just leave him out here.” Hunk sighed, looking around as though the highway would yield any answers. 

“Do you just want to…put him in the car, I guess? He’s got to wake up eventually, right? Like, he doesn’t look like he’s going to die, right?” Lance wondered. Hunk looked down at the stranger, who still breathed peacefully. 

“He’ll die if we leave him here. There’s no town around here for miles, and I don’t see a car parked anywhere. He’d have to hitchhike, if he ever even woke up,” Hunk reasoned. Lance let out a heavy breath and ran his hand through his hair. 

“Well, if we can’t leave him here, I guess we better get going,” Lance reasoned. Hunk nodded, and without a second thought, scooped up the stranger and started to carry him to the car. 

“He’s heavy.” Hunk grunted. Lance shot him an incredulous look. 

“Aren’t you supposed to be super strong or something?” 

“I’d love to see your noodley ass try to carry him,” Hunk retorted. After a slight amount a maneuvering, where Hunk may have smacked the stranger’s head on the door, they shoved him into the backseat. Lance piled back into the driver’s seat, Hunk slid in beside him, and soon the two were on their way once again. 

The car was silent. Hunk and Lance stared straight ahead, both unwilling to acknowledge the body resting in the back seat. Lance drove on, completely mute, trying his hardest to keep from freaking out. After what seemed like an eternity, he couldn’t take it anymore. He reached out and turned up the volume, blasting Partition as loud as possible. 

“Lance, what the hell are you doing?” Hunk demanded, staring at him with horror. 

“Beyonce calms me down, ok? We just grabbed a body from the side of the road, and now it’s _in my car_! Excuse me for being a little anxious!” 

“Do you really think Beyonce is appropriate for this situation?” Hunk hissed. “This guy’s gonna wake up and hear a song about fucking in a car!” 

“It’s not like he’s gonna have a great impression of us anyway! We literally just picked him up off the side of the road!” 

“It’s the principle of the thing. Would you want to wake to hear the sounds of Partition?” 

“Hell yeah I would! It just a comfort thing ok? Let me have this you-“ 

“Jesus, this car smells fucking terrible.” 

They both froze. That voice was not either of them. As one, they both turned around in horror, to see that the stranger was awake, sitting up and looking at both of them with an expression of disgust. 

“Who are you? Wait, where am I?” The stranger demanded, looking around wildly. His eyes fixed on Hunk, and his expression turned steely. In a flash of movement, the stranger was kneeling on the console, and there was a sliver of silver against Hunk’s throat. 

“Holy shit! Oh my god! Ok, the crazy guy has a knife. What the fuck, what the fuck!” Hunk shrieked. 

“Oh my god, put the knife down! Nobody’s gonna hurt you!” Lance shouted, trying desperately to keep his eyes on the road. 

“Who are you people? Why am I in your car?” the stranger demanded, staring down the two of them. 

“We just found you on the side of the road, passed out!” Hunk yelled, his eyes affixed to the blade at his neck. “If we just left you out there you would’ve died! Now can you _please_ put the goddamn knife away?” 

The stranger eyed them warily for what seemed like eternity, then slowly sheathed the knife and plopped back down in his seat. Hunk let out a loud sigh of relief and dragged his hand down his face. Lance had to take a moment to catch his breath. The song switched from Partition to Single Ladies. 

The stranger sat at attention, clearly uncomfortable, side eyeing the two of them aggressively. 

“Who are you people anyway?” he finally demanded. 

“I’m Hunk, and that’s Lance. We’re from out of town.” Hunk explained, pointing at each of them in turn. The stranger nodded slowly. 

“You said you found me on the side of the road?” he asked. Hunk nodded vigorously. Lance felt like this was all a little much for him, so he kept his eyes on the road. 

“Well, uh, thanks, I guess.” The stranger seemed rather surly, almost pouting and refusing to look them in the eyes. 

“You guess?” Hunk inquired. 

“Well, I mean, it was nice of you to look out for me, but I was fine,” the stranger insisted. Hunk and Lance shared an incredulous glance. 

“You were unconscious on the side of the road,” Lance reiterated, just to make sure the stranger knew exactly what was going on. 

“I was taking a nap. I was out looking for something last night and I was in the middle of my search.” The stranger folded his arms and leaned back in the seat, the picture of self-assured recklessness. Lance felt his eye twitch. 

“Seems a little ungrateful to me.” He remarked, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. The stranger didn’t dignify this with a response, and Hunk shot him a look that very clearly said “ _You really want to start shit with the crazy guy napping on the side of the road with a knife?”_

“What were you looking for that took you all night?” Hunk asked, clearly letting his curiosity get the best of him. The stranger shuffled around in the back seat for a moment, but didn’t say anything. 

“Well?” Lance prodded, growing increasingly impatient with the man sitting in his car. Right from the start, he’d had the _audacity_ to say his car smelled, and then complained about them trying to save his life. Lance was not having it. 

“I was looking for, uh…bivshut.” he muttered, grumbling into the collar of his jacket. Lance cupped a hand around his ear. 

“Sorry, try again.” 

“Bigfoot, ok? I was looking for Bigfoot. Jesus.” The stranger finally admitted, prompted Lance to collapse into giggles. The stranger immediately bristled in retaliation. 

“Hey, fuck you, ok? Bigfoot is absolutely real and plenty of sightings have been recorded in East Oregon and-“ Hunk cut him off, shaking his head. 

“Ok, doesn’t matter. I really don’t want to know. Look, I’m sure everybody here just wants to go on their way, so where’s your house?” 

There was a second suspiciously long moment of silence. 

“Hunk, he doesn’t even have a-“ Lance was cut off by a withering glare from Hunk. The stranger shifted uncomfortably for a moment, then spoke. 

“I don’t have a place, but I do have somewhere I need to go. Do you know how to get to Menassus? It shouldn’t be too far from here.” he explained, shaking his leg anxiously. Hunk took a moment to look up where exactly Menassus was, then nodded. 

“Yeah, it’s only about half an hour away. We can stop for gas while we’re there,” he said to Lance. The stranger finally seemed to relax a bit, and he bowed his head. 

“Thank you. For uh, trying to help. I appreciate it,” he muttered. Lance waved his hand dismissively. 

“Nah it’s cool. Totally understandable. Falling asleep by the highway while looking for Bigfoot? Happens to me all the time!” Lance mocked him, a shit eating grin on his face. Hunk rolled his eyes and found directions for Menassus. The stranger looked ready to fight him, but didn’t act on whatever impulse was running through his head. 

“What’s your name, anyway? I think we deserve to know it.” Lance asked, turning around to face the stranger despite Hunk’s warning of “Watch the road.” 

“I’m Keith.” The stranger finally grumbled. Lance nodded appraisingly, then turned back to watch the road. 

“Alright Keith, I guess we’re buddies for the time being. Get comfy. Also, put your damn seat belt on, you heathen. If we get in a crash, you’d be dead. Is that what you want, Keith? Is it?” he demanded as he switched lanes. Hunk got comfortable in his chair, and Keith put on his seat belt, albeit begrudgingly. 

“You are on the fastest route. You should reach your destination in 20 minutes.” Hunk’s phone intoned, and the three sped off down the road to Menassus. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi y'all 
> 
> This chapter is mostly just plot building and character introduction, nothing too crazy yet. Stay tuned tho, I promise it'll pick up in a bit. 
> 
> Hope you like it!

Lance knew he was a little too quick to pass judgement at times. He typically flew by the seat of his pants, deciding off of first impressions, sometimes to his own detriment. His mom had chided him for it many a time, sometimes smacking the back of his head. It had done little to teach him a lesson, and the habit had stuck through to his late teens. He understood, on some level, that he shouldn’t make snap decisions, and that it wasn’t particularly intelligent or helpful. 

That being said, Menassus was fucking creepy. 

There wasn’t anything particularly ominous about the welcome sign, or the Wendy’s a block away, or the people walking along the sidewalk. It was the woods. Thick, dense trees surrounded the town on all sides, reaching up like skyscrapers and closing off the sky. If Hunk was right, the town was only thirty minutes away from the border, and it certainly felt like it. Lance was struck with the distinct sensation that all of Menassus teetered on the edge of a sheer precipice. When he glanced over at Hunk, he saw that he wasn’t the only one who was mildly unnerved. Hunk was shifting awkwardly in his seat, peering out the window in concern. The trees surrounding them on all sides made Lance feel claustrophobic, like they were closed off from everywhere else. 

Keith, on the other hand, seemed completely unperturbed, instead examining the edge of his knife with a disconcerting amount of focus. Lance navigated the narrow streets with unease, glancing about suspiciously. 

“So, uh, where do you want us to drop you off, Keith?” He asked, not taking his eyes off of the road. Keith hesitated for a moment. 

“Uh, if you can find the library, that’d be great,” he suggested, shoving his knife in his pocket. Hunk eyed him warily. 

“You do have a place to stay, right? Because, I mean, we can probably-“ Keith shook his head vehemently. 

“No, no, it’s ok. I’ll be fine. I just need to get to the library, please,” he insisted. Lance eyed him in the rearview incredulously, but kept driving. He spied a sign that pointed him in the right direction, and swung left with a growing sense of concern. 

The car was unusually quiet, Beyoncé’s angelic voice turned down to accommodate any need for conversation. Hunk was apparently lost in thought, cracking his knuckles absentmindedly. Keith sat at attention in the backseat, weirdly attentive. Lance didn’t regret trying to help him, but he also wouldn’t regret leaving Menassus as soon as possible. 

The library parking lot was empty save for two cars, and Lance worried that it was closed for a moment, until he saw the cheap cardboard sign hanging from the door indicating otherwise. He pulled in and parked, fully prepared to just drop Keith off, until he saw Hunk taking off his seatbelt as well. 

“What’re you doing?” Lance asked, turning the key and pulling it out. Keith eyed Hunk questioningly, obviously not expecting him to come with. 

“If it’s cool with you, I’ll come in too. Just to make sure everything’s good,” Hunk offered. Keith paused for a moment, then nodded, albeit slowly. 

“Uh, sure, I guess that’s cool.” He opened the back door and clambered out of the car, Hunk following soon after. Lance rolled his eyes and got out of the driver’s side, slamming his door and double checking that the doors were locked as he left. 

“Hunk, you might as well start applying for maternity leave at some point,” Lance complained, earning a dirty look from his friend. 

“Excuse me for being concerned for someone’s welfare.” Hunk turned his nose up in the air, obviously miffed. Lance rolled his eyes even harder. 

“He’s going to the library! What’s going to happen to him? Are Junie B. Jones and Curious George going to mug him?” 

Keith ignored the both of them, instead wandering into the library without a word. It was surprisingly cozy, if a little chilly. The familiar scent of pages and ink wafted by, and Lance would’ve been lying if he said it wasn’t nice. Bean bags were scattered about the children’s section, along with cardboard cutouts of more famous characters. Keith ignored all of this, and immediately headed towards a flight of stairs on the opposite end of the room. 

“They should be upstairs,” he offered as his only form of explanation, and immediately jogged up the stairs ahead of Hunk and Lance, leaving them befuddled. They shared an incredulous glance, and followed him up, Hunk’s steps ponderous, and Lance’s erratic. 

The upstairs was slightly warmer than the previous level, and a table lined with computers was pressed up against the wall. An information desk sat in the center of the room, that held the only person Hunk and Lance had seen in the library so far. Keith was already approaching the desk, with some sort of purpose driving him. As Lance and Hunk drew closer, Lance couldn’t help but gasp. 

The woman behind the desk was one of the most beautiful people he had ever seen. 

She had thick, dyed silver hair, piled up on top of her head in an immaculate bun, with searing blue eyes partially obscured by thick black glasses that made her seemed poised and intelligent. Her skin was dusky and flawless, and her nails were painted a delicate pink. Everything about her contributed to an elegant, mildly intimidating ensemble, and despite her very clearly being out of his league, Lance immediately decided that he was going to woo this woman. 

Or at least, he was until Keith barged rudely past him and began to speak to her. 

“Uh, hi, do you know where Katie Holt is?” he asked. The woman eyed him for a moment, obviously confused, until a light of recognition shone in her eyes. 

“Oh, you mean Pidge! Yeah, they’re in the back office.” She pointed to indicate the direction, and Keith stalked off, leaving Hunk trailing behind him. Lance had half a mind to follow them, but on the other hand, he has other pressing matters to attend to. He turned to face the woman, whose nametag read _Allura_ , and gave his most winsome smile. He leaned forward and rested his elbow on the desk, propping up his head with his hand. 

“Hey.” He began, waggling his eyebrows. Allura stared at him for a moment, and pushed her glasses up on the ridge of her nose. She eyed him in a similar manner to someone who had just spied a used tissue sitting out. 

“Hello.” She replied slowly, and Lance noticed that her voice had a slight lilt to it, probably the faint remnants of an accent. 

“The name’s Lance,” he introduced himself, rising to his full height and extending his hand. She shook it, albeit slowly, and surreptitiously wiped her hand against her skirt. 

“Um, nice to meet you,” Allura replied, though more out of obligation than anything. 

“Are you Jamaican?” Lance asked. Allura narrowed her eyes. 

“No, but I fail to see how-“ 

“Because you’re Jamaican me crazy,” he finished. 

There was a very long silence. 

Lance opened his mouth to speak again, try to recover, something, _anything,_ but was quickly silenced when he saw Allura’s eyes narrow. 

“I don’t know why you thought that was a good idea, but I’m just going to let you know that I have very little interest in being hit on by someone who looks like a Mexican Gary Busey that was hit by a train. Your chin is so sharp your head is literally the shape of a gardening spade. Go join your little buddies and pester Pidge, I don’t have time for this.” With that, she turned around and strode away, leaving Lance behind, in shock. He stood there for a moment, trying to process what happened, until he finally recovered and wandered towards the back office Keith and Hunk had wandered towards. He swung the door open, still feeling the particularly brutal sting of rejection. 

Inside, the room was dark save for the light of a computer screen, with Hunk and Keith standing off to the side. The floor was completely covered in newspaper clippings and printed off articles, blurry Polaroids and the occasional VHS tape. A rusted file cabinet sat in the corner, full to bursting, and a desk off to the side was full of cables and tangled wires. The wall, however, was the strangest part of all. It was coated in papers, stuck to the walls with pushpins and tape and what looked like glue, all of which were crisscrossed with red, green, yellow, and red thread wound among the pushpins, creating a tangled mess. Some sections of the wall were neatly labeled and sorted, while others were simply slathered with clippings placed on in a haphazard order. 

In the center of this chaos, seated in front of a computer screen, was an incredibly short person, one that Lance could only assume was Pidge. 

In comparison to Allura, Pidge was-there was no nicer way to put this- a fucking gremlin. Short, skinny, with under eye bags for miles and a shock of frizzed blonde hair, Pidge appeared to be anything but the glamorous picture Allura presented. Despite this, Keith and Hunk were hanging on their every word, paying rapt attention. Upon Lance’s arrival, the three turned to face him immediately. Lance shifted awkwardly, slightly uncomfortable under the sudden attention. 

“Um, hi,” he tried, waving half-heartedly. Keith raised an unimpressed brow, Hunk regarded him with pity, and Pidge didn’t seem hold much of an opinion on the situation at all. With little ceremony, they turned around and gestured towards the computer screen, prompting Keith to lean in close. 

“There’s been six sightings within the last week. It’s only a matter of time before we have an actual incident,” Pidge argued. Keith sighed heavily and nodded, a weary expression on his face. Lance shot a questioning look towards Hunk, but was only met with a shrug. He felt a sudden spike of irritation. He didn’t want to stay in this creepy town anymore. They’d dropped Keith off, he obviously knew Pidge, he’d be fine. They could cut and run any time. And yet, Hunk had made no move to leave. 

“What sightings are you talking about?” Hunk asked, peering to get a closer look. He reached his hand out to touch the screen, only to have his hand smacked away by Pidge. 

“Cryptid sightings,” Pidge replied, as though it was obvious. Lance raised an incredulous brow. 

“Cryptid? Like the fucking chupacabra? Holy shit, Hunk, Keith wasn’t kidding about the Bigfoot thing-“ 

“Oh come on, the chupacabra is native to the southern US. We’re in Oregon,” Keith interjected, rolling his eyes. Lance’s eyes widened and he glanced over at Hunk, clearly concerned. Hunk seemed equally perturbed, but appeared willing to listen anyway. Lance mentally buried his face in his hands. His best friend was too damn trusting. 

“You think there’s a cryptid around here?” Hunk asked, clearly still confused. Pidge pursed their lips, clearly debating how much to say. Finally, they sighed and spoke. 

“Listen. You guys are very obviously not from around here, so I’m going to make this quick. Every year since 1976, there have been reports of something living in the woods. Some people thought it was just a bear, but later reports claimed it was more humanoid in nature.” 

“Like Bigfoot?” Lance questioned. Pidge rolled their eyes. 

“Yes, kind of like bigfoot. Anyway, there’s been the occasional sighting every couple of months or so, nothing major, until now. Now, there’s been reports streaming in like crazy, people sending in pictures, eyewitness accounts. Keith and I are trying to figure out what’s going on.” They explained, “Thanks for dropping him off by the way.” With that, they gave a dismissive wave of their hand. There was a long pause, where Lance and Hunk waited for Pidge to continue. When they didn’t show any sign of speaking again, Lance took that as his cue to leave. He grabbed Hunk by the wrist and dragged him from the room, shaking his head vehemently the whole way. 

“Fucking weirdos, going Bigfoot hunting,” Lance muttered under his breath as he and Hunk made their way down the stairs. 

Lance hustled out of the library in record time, sliding into the driver’s seat without a second thought, grumbling as he turned the key into the ignition. 

“This place is weird as hell,” he muttered, slipping on his aviators, “Creepy woods and people hunting for Bigfoot all over the place. Next time we go on a road trip, we’re not picking up strangers off the side of the road, ok, Hunk?” 

Hunk nodded absentmindedly, but he didn’t seem particularly present in the conversation. Lance gunned the ignition and peeled out of the library parking lot. All he really wanted was to get out of this town. Something about it seemed off somehow, like the trees in the distance were watching him. He felt as though he was walking a fine line, along the edge of a precipice, and he wanted away from the edge. 

“We were gonna stop and get gas, right?” Hunk remembered, pointing at a gas station down the street. Lance nodded, albeit reluctantly. 

“It’ll only take a second, then we can get out of here,” Hunk promised, sensing Lance’s discomfort. He couldn’t even pin down exactly why he was so uneasy in Menassus, just that something in his bones was whining for him to get out of there. The uncomfortable atmosphere was only worse when juxtaposed against the ridiculousness that was Pidge and Keith’s cryptids theory. He barely knew either one of them, but he felt he knew them enough to certify them both as bona fide crazy. 

They pulled into the gas station, and as Lance went to the pump, he felt a craving for something comforting. Chocolate probably, or maybe some Mountain Dew. Something familiar, to ground him in the mire of the strange and uncomfortable around him. He tapped his fingers in a tattoo against his thigh, trying not to jump out of his skin right there. All he had to do was get some gas, then they could leave. 

That was all he had to do. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look I love pidge as much as the next person but let's be real they are a gremlin

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I'm hoping this is going to be a lot of a fun. :)
> 
>  
> 
> [My tumblr](http://disgustingweeabootrash.tumblr.com/)


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